


Do You Know Who You Are? (What You Are?)

by hardlifeyourlife



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Eventual Romance, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlifeyourlife/pseuds/hardlifeyourlife
Summary: The boys decide to help when they probably shouldn't have. It shouldn't lead to any negative consequences because it was supposed to be an easy job. Right?OR:Geralt and Jaskier somehow piss off a Fae and Geralt loses his memory.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Do You Know Who You Are? (What You Are?)

"What I don't understand is why we're ignoring their problem. I mean, that's what… witcher-ing is all about, right? And they were willing to pay." Jaskier asked, walking languidly next to Roach as they walked out of town. Geralt let out a soft grunt to acknowledge that the bard had been heard, but that he didn't intend on responding. "Come on, Geralt. It's me. I mean, I know that you're not supposed to spill your secret guild secrets or whatever, but who can blame you for explaining a thing or two to an old drinking buddy?" He asked, and he heard Geralt sigh above him. 

"Faeries are deadly. But all anyone has to do is stay on their good side. Most of the time it's nothing different than squabbles between men, except more magic. I'd prefer not to be cursed."

"I've actually met one before, although I didn't know until afterwards. They were a terrifying thing, although they did love to be flattered. Maybe I can read it some of my poetry about those few months." He said, somewhat dreamily, and Geralt reached down to smack him in the back of the head. 

"You're more likely to make them jealous of your way with words and find yourself unable to speak again. You're lucky you got out of that interaction unscathed." He said, straightening in his seat and looking ahead. 

"Now that you mention it, I distinctly remember writing a song about them, and yet I don't seem to know any of the words." He pondered that for only a moment before moving on. "Besides, if it's just a matter of righting a wrong, why shouldn't we do it? It sounds like nothing but easy coin." He said, glancing up at Geralt, who only growled in response. Jaskier smirked, strumming a chord on his lute as he started writing another song. 

They found themselves at the sight of the incident rather quickly - it looked as though the town had been attempting to ward the faerie off for a long time. There was a tree out on the edge of the town with hundreds of bells hanging from it's branches. The sounds of it must have been excruciating to the fae living in the woods nearby. The fae were known to covet bells but only their own; anyone else's would have angered them beyond reason. Jaskier imagined they felt the same way as he did when he heard another bard singing one of his songs or reciting his poetry.

"Don't help with this. I don't want you involved in case it gets angry." Geralt said, beginning to put the alter together to summon it. 

"Don't worry, my love, sitting down and not dying from an angry fairy ripping my guts out is one of my specialties." Jaskier said, lounging on the rock wall cutting through the field. He hummed a little bar and began trying to sing a couple lines before he felt a chill run up his spine. He remembered what Geralt said while they were on the road, and closed his mouth firmly. 

The altar was barely complete before the faerie decided to show itself. It wasn't much different from a human, if a human had 4 razor sharp claws on each hand and stood about 7 feet tall. It was as thin as a twig, too, and Jaskier had to look away at the sight of it's bones visible through its skin. It considered Geralt for a moment before speaking. 

"What are you?" It asked, pacing back and forth in front of the altar. "Who are you?" It was drawling it's words as if forcing them out between its teeth. How Jaskier spent months in the company of one of these, he didn't know.

"I'm a witcher. I've come to ask you to set things back the way they were in the village." Geralt asked, having not even attempted to draw his sword. Oh, what a great offense that would have been if he did. And lose his arm while he's at it. "If I get rid of this tree, will you fix them?" 

"What is a witcher? A killer of monsters? A butcher of beasts? The difference between a mutant and a human is that of a wolf and a dog. It doesn't interest me."

"What does interest you, out of curiosity?" Jaskier piped in from where he sat, twiddling his thumbs. Geralt shot him a death glare, but it didn't do much to quell the bard's luxurious grin. "I'd love to write a song about it, if you don't mind."

"You. You're just a human, I can smell it. Give me your name and I shall tell you what my interests are." It stopped moving and finally faced Jaskier, acknowledging his presence. Geralt's confident swagger turned tense, and he took half a step to the side in an attempt to get the Fae's attention back on him. 

"Ah, ah, ah darling. We have other business to attend to, you big flirt. Maybe if you play nice we can come to an agreement. Is it the bells?" Jaskier asked, keeping his tone light.

"Your pet is charming, for a human. And stupid." It turned back to Geralt suddenly, as if deciding that Jaskier was no longer worth playing with. "Get rid of the bells. We can't bear to hear them anymore."

"And you'll fix the town?" Geralt asked, and the Fae nodded. 

"I will. But it will be you, Witcher, who bears the result if it's not dealt with properly." And with that, it disappeared, and the altar collapsed seemingly under its own weight.

The actual removal of the bells was easy. Geralt still didn't let Jaskier help, so it took him a little longer than necessary. But once the bells had been crushed individually and destroyed, the altar fell apart. The chaos in the air dissipated, telling them that they were finally alone, not having every move watched by an unhappy fairy despite the fact that they couldn't see it. They'd left town soon after collecting their coin, and were headed in search of another beast who'd made a name for itself among the peasants. 

Now, Jaskier looked anxiously across the fire at Geralt, the man seeming more tired than a rather easy trek through the woods ought to have earned. In the dim light of the setting sun, Jaskier watched as Geralt brought his pack down from Roach, unrolled the blankets and unpacked his rations, just like he did every night they'd ever made camp. 

But once he was finished he sat in silence, staring at the sword in his hand and the small piece of stone in the other. He'd lain the weapon across his lap, but now acted as though he didn't know what the next step was. 

"What's wrong, Geralt?" Jaskier asked, strumming his lute dramatically to punctuate the question before setting it aside and leaning forward. "You haven't turned to stone, have you?"

"I- uh. I don't know why I'm doing this." He said softly, voice rough. His eyebrow was furrowed deeper than looked comfortable, and there were a few seconds of shared silence before Jaskier filled in the blank.

"It looks like you're sharpening your swords. You know, you've probably done that every night for the past twenty years. Do you think at some point your weapon could be… too sharp?" Jaskier asked, a teasing smile on his face. 

"Hmm." Was all Geralt said, beginning to work on the weapon, having finally remembered what he was doing. He let himself fall into the rhythm of the motions before responding, and by that time Jaskier had picked the lute back up. "I'm not sharpening it."

"Oh? Could have fooled me. But what would I know. I'm only Jaskier, Dandelion, Buttercup, whatever you prefer. A humble, whorish bard who's managed to fuck his way across the continent and back."Jaskier chuckled, strumming the chord he'd written when referencing himself in a song, opening his mouth to sing but Geralt cut him off, annoyance clear in his tone. Jaskier often wrote himself off like that whenever someone corrected him, almost shoving it in their faces that of course he was stupid, he was just a bard. Not that Geralt actually believed the act, considering the size of his ego. But he didn't like that Jaskier thought those things were funny.

"Not now, Jaskier."

"Oh you don't really hate my singing, there's no point in pretending now. There's no one here to witness the White Wolf feeling, now is there?" 

Geralt wordlessly moved on to the next weapon, pulling out a different tool to work on the steel blade. Jaskier took that as permission, and started singing about some of his exploits and the women he's woo-ed. And the things people say about him. He'd written it all down into one lovely song that he sang when he was working a particularly annoyed crowd. 

Once the song was over, there was a peaceful quiet around them, an almost comfortable feeling. Geralt wasn't overly annoyed, although he didn't look happy. But then again he never looked happy. 

"Why don't you write a good song?" He asked, and Jaskier balked, straightening in offense. 

"I rather thought that was a good song. Plenty of people like it." He said, clutching his lute to his chest. "You know, you're in a mood tonight. Are you sure you've had enough to eat?"

Geralt let out a soft growl at the miscommunication, pausing the work to try and settle the words in his mind before speaking again.

"People like it because they don't like you. It would help to fix your own reputation instead of being so worried about mine." He suggested, and Jaskier rolled his eyes. 

"I'm fine with my reputation the way it is, although I thank you for your concern." Geralt rarely ever said anything nice to him. "It's always nice to feel a little appreciated." He was just teasing his friend, though. "And I'm not the one who is routinely attacked with whatever weapon that people can find closest to them, Witcher."

Geralt grunted, standing up and sliding both of the weapons into their sheaths, deciding that they were worthy enough for another day of fighting monsters. He began to affix them to Roach's back for safekeeping when he stopped. When he turned back to the fire, the swords were clutched so tightly to him that his knuckles were white, and he was shaking slightly. When was the last time Geralt of Rivia ever shook, even with the cold? Jaskier didn't notice at first, and it was Geralt's voice that finally caused him to look up.

"What's a witcher?" 

"What do you mean?" Jaskier asked after a moment of considering his words, smiling slightly at the assumption that there was a joke somewhere, but it faltered when his eyes landed on the other man. Geralt's face was lit up by the fire, and his brow was once again furrowed in confusion. 

"Jask-" The breath left him and his eyes rolled back in his head. His body dropped to the ground like a dead weight. It was thanks only to Jaskier's quick reflexes that he didn't fall straight into the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments welcome!


End file.
